Everything You Touch Surely Dies
by Unstoppable Cyborg
Summary: All Douxie hears is the muffled sound of traffic and the clear, constant sound of cracks spreading across his body. Rated T for body horror and our favorite emo wizard contemplating his own mortality. Unreliable narrator, category subject to change when a category is made for Wizards. Angst with an ambiguous ending


**I don't own ****_Wizards. _If I did, I wouldn't be releasing stuff about it due to a tumblr prompt that got carried away.**

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Douxie pulls his hood tighter down on his head, like it is a way he can hide from all of his problems. Between it, and the way he squeezes his stinging eyes, perhaps he can pretend that nothing has gone horribly wrong, just for a moment.

All he sees is darkness. All he hears is the muffled sound of traffic and the clear, constant sound of cracks spreading across his body.

Douxie opens his eyes and watches his hands shake. Motes of dark blue light, motes that are more shadow than light despite the way they glow, they fly off his hands like sparks from a burning home. Motes of dark blue, the same dark blue that his eyes must surely be right now, because that's what happened to dark wizards who use enough magic to become cracked and is that what he is now? A dying dark wizard?

He tries to still his shaking, but as he does so his eyes rest on how the cracks have crawled their way past his wrists, and under the sleeves he had pulled down despite the oppressive August heat and humidity. What should be the oppressive August heat; his head feels hot and the rest of him is just so very cold and almost numb except he feels needles crawling across his skin. He forces one hand to pull the other sleeve up and he immediately pulls it back down, unwilling to look at how his forearm is covered in intricate black cracks.

Why was all of this happening? All he had done was raise a shield to defend himself against the attacking knight and so much more magic had come from him than he had planned. He hadn't even realized what had happened until Nimue knocked over the knight _and then -_

\- Douxie scrubbed his hands over his face, hating the texture and trying not to cry -

_\- and then_ she had taken a step back from him, anger and fear swirling together in her eyes as he had looked and saw the way his fingers hand black cracks forming all over them, had felt the way his jaw and eye sockets felt like they were splintering.

He had seen the way Archie lay there, on the floor, glasses cracked and he was all too still, and maybe if Douxie had reacted a little faster _then his familiar wouldn't -_

Douxie takes a wet gasp. He doesn't know if Archie is dead or not but his familiar was undoubtedly hurt and if Douxie was now corrupted then surely he should've tried healing or necromancy (and maybe they're the same thing but one is a corrupted version of the other and Douxie is _far past_ that line) but _no._ Douxie had just _ran._

He had ran past Nimue, and then past Toby, Steve, and Krel, and they had all just looked afraid as they saw him. He had pulled his sleeves down and his hood up and as he ran he had hoped that Arcadians were so used to the supernatural by now that no one would think twice about him. He had ran until even his lungs felt like they were splintering and he had to hide and sit down and stare at his shaking hands.

Douxie takes another wet gasp, and tries not to think about the way the tears feel as they filter into the cracks on his face. Nimue must have explained to their friends just what the cracks mean and they all must hate him now.

They should have always hated him. Douxie is the reason why they're in so much pain, even if he hadn't realized it at first. Douxie helped to make the amulet, and so Toby should have always hated him. Douxie has seen the way Akiridion cores look and he knows the origins of the blue stone that Merlin used for the base of the amulet. Krel should have always hated him.

Douxie curls in on himself, trying not to think of if his friends or his corruption will kill him, and if he will hurt or kill anyone in this process.

He hears muffled traffic, cracks spreading across his body, and his own shuddering sobs. And then he hears footsteps, and his friends calling his name, and he knows his fate is decided.


End file.
